:In training to be in-training,:, Camayo grumbled, but Evita saw no reason to relay that information. She had made the significant point that she had not yet earned the Herald title. “Yes, sir,” Evita said simply. “I was asked to talk to you about Firisain.”
“Welcome to Arran.” Captain Fasson gestured past the border. “Would you like to come see it?”
Evita considered. Her stomach clamored for another village-cooked meal, and the layout of Arran did look inviting. She glanced over her shoulder. The abject ugliness of Firisain filled her vision and reminded her of her objective. Worried that the Arranis might sway her mind with comforts, she shook her head. “I’d like to speak here.”
Captain Fasson merely shrugged. “Very well, my lady.” He took Evita and Camayo to a small building just over the boundary. Dismounting, he opened the door and gestured Evita inside.
:Will you be all right?:
:I’m fine,: Camayo assured her. :It’s you I’m worried about.:
The words squeezed Evita’s chest like a fist. :Do you think he might hurt me?:
:No, I’m worried you might hurt him.:
The words made no sense, but Evita had little time to ponder them as her hesitation left the captain standing awkwardly with the door in hand. Swiftly, she climbed off of Camayo and headed through the opening.
The building consisted of a single room. Barrels of provisions lay stacked around a single long table stained with bowl-rings and splotches of soaked-in drinks. Fasson took a seat at the table and gestured for Evita to do the same. She accepted the one directly across from him and studied his features. Lines scored his brow and the area around his mouth. Dark bags settled beneath hard, hazel eyes that seemed to hold a wisdom she could not yet fathom. He gave her a promising smile. “What can we do for you, Evita?”
Evita cleared her throat, uncertain where to start. “It has come to my attention that Arran oppresses the citizens of Firisain.”
Fasson sat back wordlessly. He rolled his tongue around his mouth, as if to taste as well as reconcile Evita’s accusation. “Many Firisainians live and work in Arran, as appreciated and productive citizens with the full rights of any Arrani. Only those who incite violence, those who demand that we must die, those who drag weapons into our village and use them against us are barred.”
“They say you do not allow them to leave their village.”
“We prevent them only from entering Arran. And only those who wish us harm.”
“They say you took their village in war.”
Captain Fasson nodded. “That’s true, but they initiated the war by attacking Arran with the intention of wiping us out and taking our village.” He smiled. “We won that war and took their village instead.”
That news surprised Evita, but she still saw a great disparity that needed fixing. “Captain, you’ve taken everything from them. Of course they hate you. How do you expect them to live on what remains?”
The captain’s expression turned cold. “They hated us long before we took their village in a war they started. Had they won, they would not have allowed us to live in any fashion whatsoever. They boldly state that they would have slaughtered even our infants and children. They would do so now if they could.”
Evita found it difficult to reconcile the two sides. “It’s thirty years since the war, Captain. Why must you punish the children of the combatants? Why do you make them live like this?”
“Make them?” Fasson rose. “Make them! They choose to live as they do. They treat their women like slaves and make no attempt to better themselves. They live like animals because they fester in their own hatred, blaming us for all their weaknesses. They raise their children in foolish ignorance, teaching them only that we must all die. They wallow in their own filth. Any money that comes into their hands, they spend on weapons to raise against us. When we disarm them, they rage against our theft and cruelty. They do nothing to make their own lives better, only disparage ours.”
Evita pointed out the obvious. “You are occupying their country.”
Captain Fasson could not deny it. “For the sole purpose of keeping our people safe. We don’t want their country; it is a burden to us. We ask nothing from them but to leave us in peace.”
Evita sighed. At least now, she could see both sides. “You have everything; they have nothing. It’s up to you to fix this problem.”
“Fix it.” Captain Fasson heaved a bitter laugh. “How would you have us fix it?”
Evita believed she had the answers. “First, you give them back their village and all title to it.”
The captain cocked his head.
Encouraged that he seemed willing to listen, Evita continued. “You allow them to come and go as they please, treating them as equal humans.”
Fasson remained in position, listening so intently he even seemed to have stopped breathing.
“You give them the money it takes to rebuild their village and teach them how to live as civilized people. Once you start treating them as decent beings, they will behave like decent beings.”
Needing some feedback, Evita paused. The captain seemed to be waiting for her to finish. As such, a long silence ensued, which Fasson finally broke.
“And in return? What do we get for giving up our land, our security, our money, and our resources?”
Evita had not thought of the situation in that light. “You get the satisfaction of knowing you helped out a hapless group of people.”
The captain made a wordless noise. “Satisfaction doesn’t keep our families safe. Do you think we like babysitting a vile village of barbarians? Don’t you think we would rather keep our young men and women at home learning trades rather than serving time on the border? Surely, you realize that we wish we had kind, civilized neighbors with whom we could trade recipes and goods rather than swords and spears.” He shook his head broadly. “To go along with this, we would need a guarantee of peace.”
“That . . . ” Evita started even as she considered her response. “ . . . seems infinitely reasonable.” Her heart pounded with excitement. She could truly make a difference, could actually show Camayo what could happen when two sworn enemies actually did give peace a chance.
“Bring me a leader of the Firisainians,” Captain Fasson said. “We will make the concessions you ask for nothing more than a signed and sworn statement of peace. That’s all we’ve ever wanted.”
Evita rose, fairly tripping over herself to get to the door. “I’ll bring one here at once, Captain.” She opened the door herself and headed out into the field.
Captain Fasson’s words chased her, “With the power of Valdemar behind us, we know we’re safe. And if the peace is breached, you will stand behind us.”
Buoyed by excitement, Evita ran toward Ahjaman.
For six days, Evita rode the joy of her accomplishment. The sky seemed bluer, the clouds puffier, the foliage more brilliant than an entire pile of jade. Perfumed with flowers, the air tickled her nostrils, making every breath a pleasure. She had worked past all the soreness, and riding Camayo became comfortable as well.
On the seventh day, Evita realized that she had become so engrossed in her successes that she had barely noticed Camayo’s lengthening silences. Only then, she thought to ask, :Are you angry with me?:
Camayo shook his horsy head. :Not angry, Dear One. Just disappointed.:
:Disappointed?: Evita could scarcely believe it. She had worked the negotiations like a professional, getting two warring nations not only to speak, but to normalize their relationships. :Those two have hated one another for thirty years. Thirty years. And, now, they will coexist peacefully, side by side.:
:You have that backwards, Dear One.:
Evita could make no sense of the words. :What do you mean, Camayo? What’s backwards?:
:For only the last thirty years, only since Arran conquered Firisain have they had peace. Prior to that time, they warred for centuries, maybe longer. It was the avowed express purpose of Firisain to slaughter every perso
n of Arrani descent, and they attempted to do so at every opportunity.:
Evita did not see the significance of that information. :But this time the Firisainians agreed to peace. They signed a paper—:
:A technicality, Dear One. To get the Arranis off their land. For money, and for power, they signed a nebulous pledge for peace. So they will not lead a village-wide offensive sanctioned by its leaders. People killed by socalled spontaneous acts of violence are just as dead.:
Evita still did not follow the logic. :Camayo, the Arranis signed as well. If they didn’t think the leaders of Firisain could control their people, why did they agree?:
Camayo had an answer for that as well. :Because the Arranis are so desperate for peace, they would do anything for it. And they convinced themselves that you had the power of Valdemar behind you.:
And I did not disabuse them of the notion. Guilt assailed Evita, and she found herself so struck with dizziness she sank to the ground. :Camayo, are you sure?:
:I wasn’t,: the Companion sent. :Until I saw them.: He tipped his head suddenly toward a distant hill.
Evita craned her neck. Nevertheless, it took several moments before the scene came into view. Riding at full gallop over the rise came a dozen ghostly figures. They rode in perfect symmetry, the riders bedecked in white moving in rhythm to milky steeds. They moved with such grace and confidence, Evita could do nothing more than stare. :Heralds.:
:Heralds,: Camayo confirmed. :And not due in these parts for months.:
Real Heralds. They took Evita’s breath away. She could only stare as they grew larger in the distance, so regal, so strong, so obviously in command. They moved in unison with their mounts, like human and shadow, bonded more powerfully than any human relationship could define. The mantle of Evita’s competence fell away to reveal nothing beneath it. She felt as if she was awakening from a long, strange dream. What have I done?
Evita grabbed Camayo. :It’s my fault they’re here? Isn’t it?: She moved into the shadows. If she had to face those Heralds, she would die from humiliation and embarrassment. If those did not kill her, she would take her life with her own hand.
Apparently, Camayo could Mindspeak over a bit of distance, because he came back to her with an answer he could only have learned from the Heralds or, more likely, their Companions. :Firisainians infiltrated an Arrani birthday party. They slaughtered everyone, including twenty children. The Arranis are fighting to regain control.:
Horror froze Evita, already sitting on the ground. The world had always seemed so simple; Evita thought she had all the answers. If people only treated one another with respect, with tolerance, they could all live in the same immense utopia. Tears streamed down Evita’s face. Her body lost all of its tone, and she collapsed into a heap.
Camayo caught her against his body, cradling her head against his warm, furry side.
:I might just as well have murdered those children with my own hands.: Evita could not live with that knowledge. Had she a bit of strength left, she would have cast herself from the highest mountain.
:No, Dear One. No.: Camayo would not accept those words. :I Chose you, and the Companions of Valdemar do not make mistakes. I saw in you great potential. I see it still. I only had to find a way to break down that wall you built with the bricks of good intentions and the mortar of ignorance.:
Evita could only sob. She could imagine only the shining, gentle faces of those children, the potential she had stolen from them and from the world. She gritted her teeth so hard that pain shot through her cheeks, and her jaw felt as if it might snap from the pressure. :I killed them.:
:No, the Firisainians killed them. And many more like them.:
:I flung open the door and invited murderers in.:
:As many optimists have done before you.: Camayo nuzzled the back of Evita’s neck. :The fault is mine, Dear One, not yours. The blood is on my hooves. It was my job, my obligation, to bring you directly to Valdemar.:
:I wouldn’t let you.:
:You could not have stopped me. Many Companions have carried their Chosen directly to Valdemar, kicking and screaming all the way.: He huddled closer, until Evita felt almost squashed by his great love and presence. :But I knew you needed more. A mug of ice water in the face, perhaps. A sword flat to the back of the head. A massive dose of reality before you would open your mind to the Collegium.:
Evita could scarcely believe what she was hearing. :So you encouraged me to . . . to murder twenty children.:
Evita could feel Camayo cringing against her. He clearly felt as bad about the situation as she did. :I expected the Firisainians to cause mayhem. I did not anticipate they would slaughter children.:
A fresh round of tears stung Evita’s eyes.
:Companions make mistakes, too. And we suffer from them as well.:
It suddenly occurred to Evita that Camayo needed her as much as she needed him. She managed to raise an arm and flop it around him. :I want to die,: she said. :Take me home and Choose another. I clearly can’t handle the responsibilities.:
Concern seeped through the contact. :Not yet. But, once you’re trained, you will. Evita, you’re stronger than you think. And while you need to temper your compassion with knowledge, it will serve all of us well for all the many years of your life to come. You’re exactly the type of companion I needed. And, once trained, you will make a fine Herald:
Evita could barely contemplate the past. A moment ago, she would not have believed she had a future. :I don’t deserve to live, let alone be rewarded for the evil I’ve done. Please, Camayo. Just let me go.: The bare suggestion pained her nearly as much as her previous thoughts. She had not known Camayo long, but he had already become an integral part of her. Losing him would be like amputating half her body and all the limbs and organs that entailed.
Camayo nudged Evita so hard, she toppled like a rag doll. :Suicide is not the answer, Dear One. Nor depriving yourself or the world of a Herald. There is only one way to atone for this.:
Evita had to know. She could not go on much longer with the guilt of those young lives on her conscience. :How?:
:To suffer it for eternity. To give all of yourself to every class, to every situation and remember the reason why. To become the best Herald you can and know that every decision you make reflects not only on you, but on me, on every Herald and Companion, on Valdemar itself. To use this mistake, and every one you make, to better the world.:
Evita had never loved anyone as much as Camayo at that moment. She wondered if every situation she faced, if everything she did, could ever come close to the value of those twenty lives lost. Nevertheless, a new sense of purpose filled her. She would do as Camayo said, throw her entire being into the knowledge, the classes, the learning, to glean every detail Collegium could furnish and become the most devoted and competent Herald ever to grace Valdemar.
With purpose came strength. Evita clambered to her feet and looked off toward Arran and Firisain. :Can we help them?:
Camayo also stood, shaking his head until his reins and bridle snapped in the wind. :Let the trained Heralds sort them out. That will give us a head start to Valdemar.:
Evita supposed they would need one. She had no idea how the Collegium would punish her, but she felt certain they would do so. Both she and Camayo deserved it. She also realized that they needed it. Without some disciplinary action for their crime, they would have to live with the burden of shame and responsibility forever. She would rather die than live a life running from the guilt. She suddenly understood why people sometimes turned to drink to escape something horrible they had done. Fuzzy minds did not have to deal with reality. That realization triggered something else. “Stelkaw and Larram.”
Camayo looked at Evita, and she thought she saw a deep hope, bordering on excitement, in the one eye he focused directly upon her. :What about them, Dear One?:
Evita cringed. She had thought herself compassionate in her decision at Bonarme; and yet, she had left Stelkaw fully unpunished for his theft. In fact, she ha
d rewarded it. :Is it too much to hope that Larram became a more charitable man? That, overwhelmed by his neighbor’s generosity, Stelkaw became a hardworking father who now shelters those less fortunate?:
Camayo lowered his head, his fine neck sagging. :Do you really want to know?:
:I have to.: Evita realized it was true. She did not know where Camayo got his information, but she trusted it and him.
Camayo sighed. :The more well-to-do in Bonarme became besieged by clamoring hordes of poorer neighbors demanding daily handouts. Soon, they had little left for themselves or those who came to them for sustenance. Since they gave their animals and crops to the likes of Stelkaw, they had no money left for the causes they had previously championed, such as the orphanage and local widows. With their charities no longer chosen from the goodness of their hearts, but forced upon them, they came to despise giving. Those who never liked work saw no reason to continue, instead getting their sustenance from those who still had money for as long as they still . . . had money.:
Evita groaned.
:Those still willing to work became so burdened by those who saw no reason to do so when others were mandated to feed them, that they left Bonarme. Currently, no one remains but Stelkaw and the other beggars.:
Evita did not know what to say. At least, her decision had not killed anyone in Bonarme as it had in Arran. :So . . . what can I do to fix that mistake?:
Camayo shook his head, repeating the exact words he had used earlier. :I’ve found that when one allows people to act wholly within their natures, they usually get exactly what they deserve.:
This time, Evita allowed herself to explore Camayo’s meaning. :You’re saying to leave them alone. In new places, they’re no longer bound by my words. Those willing to work hard will regain their fortunes and restore their faith in charity.: Evita thought she had it. :While those who prefer to gripe, whine, and steal rather than try will find the same low place in society no matter how much we give them.:
Finding the Way and Other Tales of Valdemar Page 10